


Against All Odds

by Minniver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Minor Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 20:30:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15469437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniver/pseuds/Minniver
Summary: When a terror attack takes down a plane enroute from Japan to California, all passengers and crew are presumed dead.  However, Dean refuses to believe that Cas is gone, and will go to any length to find him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was started for the Dean/Cas Pinefest, but I just wasn't able to finish it anywhere near the deadline. However, I do have to thank my amazing beta Aleeliah, who was both cheerleader and enforcer (I believe there was something about a baseball bat if I didn't finish?) and whose support helped me more than she'll ever know.

“I have never been so exhausted in my life,” Castiel growled, flopping tiredly onto his hotel bed. 

“That’s what you get for being so damn smart,” Dean teased into the phone, “Just had to be a jet-settin’ doctor, traveling the world.” 

“Hey, you had the chance to come with me, so don’t gripe,” he sniped back, a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. “It’s not my fault you have an irrational fear of flying.” 

“Dude, it’s unnatural. Metal tubes shouldn’t go hurtling through the air,” Dean said with a shudder. 

“I miss you,” Castiel said softly, still smiling. 

“I miss you too, sweetheart,” Dean replied, giving a soft smile of his own. “Just think, this time tomorrow, I’ll be picking you up from the airport.”

“I can’t wait to sleep in our own bed,” Castiel sighed. “This sleeping alone thing gets old quickly.” 

Dean laughed. “Admit it, you just miss getting to ogle my hot bod,” he teased. 

Dean could practically hear the eye roll across the miles as Castiel replied dryly, “Oh yes, that’s absolutely the only reason I’ve been ready to come home since I got here. I simply cannot sleep without a good looking male next to me. I suppose I’ll have to see about hiring a prostitute so I can be well rested for the plane ride home.” 

“Like hell you will,” Dean growled, making the other man chuckle. “I’m the only dude that gets to see you naked, sleep be damned.”

“So does that mean I can get a female instead?”

“Absolutely not!”

“But, Dean,” Castiel said though his laughter, “I want to be well rested when I come home.” 

“Fuck that,” Dean laughed. “I can still fuck you into the mattress even if you’re asleep.”

“I think you are overly confident in exactly who will be fucking who,” Castiel replied, grinning into his phone. 

“We’ll rock, paper, scissors for it, then,” Dean answered. 

“In that case, I’ll be fucking you, because you always lose.”

“That’s not true!” 

“It really is, you’re too predictable,” Castiel teased. 

“God, I miss you,” Dean sighed, still smiling. 

“I miss you too, Dean. I’ve got to start packing, but I’ll call you from the airport when I check in, okay?” 

“All right. Travel safe, I have plans for that ass when you get back.” 

Castiel shook his head, grinning. “I love you too, Dean,” he said softly, ending the call. 

It still amused Castiel greatly that even after three years together, Dean still had trouble saying the words. He’d said them once, after they’d moved in together, but Castiel didn’t need to hear it everyday. Dean was more for showing than telling, after all. With a sigh, he heaved himself up off the bed, walking to the tiny sink. Splashing some water over his face, he eyed his tired eyes in the mirror, noting the bags and ever expanding crow’s feet. He ran a hand through his messy dark hair, before scrubbing a hand down his face. He’d been brought to Tokyo to present a paper on his research on use of gene therapy to treat Pre-Alzheimer’s, and he felt like it had been well received. The whole conference had been interesting, to say the least, and it had been amazing to get to talk shop with some of the best minds in his field. Although he’d loved the experience, he truly couldn’t wait to get home, back to his classroom, and to Dean. He smiled, picturing the lanky man with the stunning green eyes that still took his breath away. 

They’d met through Sam. Sam’s wife, Jessica, had been one of his students doing her graduate work in the study of neurology. He’d become very fond of the vivacious blonde, becoming friends with her and her husband after she’d graduated. One night the couple had invited him over for dinner, and he remembered how it felt like he’d been struck by lightning the first time he’d laid eyes on Sam’s brother, Dean. He grins to himself, remembering how he’d felt like a complete fool, having been struck dumb by the gorgeous man. He’d managed to stammer through his introduction, and was relieved that Dean seemed to think he was merely inept rather than creepy. However, at the end of the night, Dean walked with him to his car, then gave him his number, slapping him on the ass before winking at him and walking back into the house. It’d taken quite a bit of courage to call that first time, but he’s so glad he did. He simply can’t imagine a life without Dean Winchester in it. 

Heaving a sigh, he wished he could just snap his fingers and be home, but since that was not to be, he started packing instead. If he hurried, he had time for a quick nap before his overnight flight back to California.

~~

Dean hummed along to the music playing loudly in the garage, swaying his hips slightly to the beat. Cas’ flight wouldn’t get in until a little after seven this evening, so he was working on one of the projects in the garage. His current project was a ‘57 Chevy Bel Air that the owner wanted restored to her original glory, and Dean was happy to oblige. It’d been a bitch tracking down some of the original parts for the engine, but it’d been worth it. Tightening a last bolt in under the hood, he stood with a happy sigh. She was ready for primer, than paint. He took a moment and looked around his shop. Winchester Restorations had been busier than usual as of late, but right now things were progressing nicely and on schedule. Garth was in the painting booth finishing the clear coat on the ‘68 Shelby Mustang, and tomorrow he’d start on the Bel Air. Ash was gone on a parts run, collecting the ordered parts for a ‘70 Road Runner. Jo was working on repairing the upholstery on a ‘69 Camaro. He closed the hood on the Bel Air, giving the hood a fond pat. He checked the clock hanging in the back of the shop. It was coming up on four o’clock; he had just enough time to go shower before heading to San Francisco to pick up Cas. 

“Jo! I’m headed out, you okay to lock up later?”

“Seriously?” the petite blonde sniped, flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder. “You ask me that every time Dean, I’m a big girl, I can handle locking up the shop you dork.” 

“If I didn’t ask, your momma would whip me, and I’m more afraid of her than I am of you, Joanna Beth,” he teased, putting up the last of his tools. 

“Yeah, whatever, you pussy. Give Cas a hug for me and tell him he owes me some chocolate chip cookies for putting up with your sorry ass while he’s been gone.” 

“Hey, I’m a delight, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, runt.” 

“About as delightful as a case of the clap,” she grumbled, slapping away Dean’s hands as he mussed her ponytail. “Get outta here, would you?” 

“I’m gone, don’t gotta tell me twice,” Dean grinned, his playful wink at the woman he considered like a sister met with an eye roll and a smile of her own. 

Stepping out of his shop, he slid into his pride and joy, his ‘67 Chevy Impala. Starting her up, feeling the rumble of the engine, it never got old. He drove the short distance from the shop to the house, and headed inside to get cleaned up. Climbing the stairs two at a time, he whistled as he entered the bedroom, quickly stripping out of his dirty clothes, pitching them basketball style towards the hamper. He turned on the shower, and stepped beneath the spray, washing quickly. Cas had been gone less than a week, but Dean had missed him like crazy and couldn’t wait to see him again. Stepping out of the shower, he dried off quickly, heaving the towel back into the bathroom. Humming “Enter Sandman” under his breath, he made quick work of getting dressed. Snapping his fingers, he grabbed his wallet, keys, stuffing them in his pockets. As he went to grab his phone, it rang, the caller ID lighting up with the name “Bitch”. Grinning broadly, he swiped his thumb over the screen to answer it. “Sammy! What’s up?” 

“Dean? Are you alright?” Sam’s voice was unusually somber, tinged with concern. 

Frowning, Dean sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, Sam, I’m fine, was just getting ready to head out to the airport to meet Cas. Why?” 

There was a pause. “Sam?”

“You haven’t seen the news have you?”

A bubble of unease rippled through Dean. “Sammy, I was at work, I just came home to clean up before I went to the airport, I haven’t had time to watch the news today. What’s going on, man, you’re kinda making me nervous here,” he answered, rubbing a hand over his chin. 

“Dean, I. . .I’m sorry.” He heard that crack in Sam’s voice, the one that always meant he was trying not to cry. 

“Sammy, what’s going on? Just spit it out, man,” Dean said, genuine fear beginning to seep through him. 

“His plane. . .it’s all over the news, they think it was a bomb. . ISIS is all over twitter taking credit for it. . .” his brother trailed off again, as if each word were a stone he had to force from his lips. 

Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut. It was hard to breathe. “What. . .what exactly are you saying, Sam? Are you. . .” he stopped, closing his eyes. 

“They lost contact with the plane, Dean. They think it’s been attacked by terrorists. They have search and rescue out looking right now, looking for wreckage and any survivors.” 

Dean closed his eyes. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air. “No, it can’t be, not possible. I just talked to him last night, Sammy, I’d know if he were . . .” he swallowed hard, unable to say it aloud. 

“Dean, I’m almost to the house. Is the door unlocked?” Sam said something else, but Dean was no longer listening. He didn’t even feel the phone falling from his hand, hitting the carpet with a soft thump, Sam’s tinny voice calling his name over and over. 

The next thing Dean was aware of, his brother had both hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, calling his name. Dean blinked slowly; his brother’s voice sounded as though it came from a great distance away.  
“. . .families are meeting at the airport to wait for news, Jess is gonna meet us there.” 

“What?” Dean asked, trying to blink away the fog. 

“I said, we’re going to the airport. They said on the news that any family were welcome to wait for news and updates.” Sam clasped his brother’s face in his hands, wiping away tears from under Dean’s eyes with his thumbs. “You’re not going through this alone, Dean.” 

Numbly, Dean nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face harshly. Taking the hand Sam offered, he let his not-so-little brother haul him to his feet and guide him downstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

The sensation of heat was the first thing he registered. He could dimly feel sweat trickling down his face, or at least, that’s what he thought it was. Why was it so hot? He felt as though his head was wrapped in wool, leaving his thoughts muddled and fuzzy. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt glued together. With a groan, he managed to lift a hand to his face, swiping at his eyes in an attempt to clear them. When he was at last able to open his eyes, the scene before him was so alien, he couldn’t make sense of it at first. 

He was sitting in the middle of a beach. Well, in a sense. He was still in his seat from the plane, still buckled in. To his left was sand and surf, to his right was twisted metal and scattered pieces of what looked like seats and luggage from the overhead bins. He fumbled with his seat belt, managing to unclasp the two halves with shaking hands. He tried to stand, but a sudden bout of dizziness left him hunched over, death grip on the seat back, until it passed. The floor creaked under his feet, but seemed to hold as he crept toward the hole in the side of the plane. The remaining intact seats were empty, both of bodies and survivors, and Castiel didn’t know what to make of it. As he neared the twisted metal, he heard voices. 

“Hello?” he called, stumbling over the slight drop from the remnants of the plane to the sand below. 

“Well, hello there, handsome,” a husky contralto purred. 

Blue eyes lifted to meet brown, their owner’s face twisted in a wry smirk. She had dark brown hair that hung to her shoulders in waves. The heart shaped face was graced with full pink lips. She was short, dressed in a pair of cargo shorts, tank top, and hiking boots. She had her arms crossed, licking her lips as she eyed him. 

“Glad to see you woke up. We were taking bets if you would or not.” 

“What?” Castiel answered, frowning. “Bets? How many others are there?” 

“You make four, handsome. I kinda feel like I’ve got my own little harem going on here,” she grinned. She stuck a hand out. “I’m Meg.” 

“Castiel,” he said, shaking her hand briefly. “What the hell happened?”

“Not hundred percent, but pretty sure our plane was hit by a suicide bomber.” 

Castiel shook his head. “That’s not possible, they do all those screenings in the airport, to prevent stuff like that from happening.” 

Meg shrugged. “Zar said he heard yelling and screaming before everything went boom. Personally, I was asleep until the big bang, so I couldn’t tell you what happened for sure. All I can tell you, is that we’re fuckin’ miracles, every one of us, because the only part of the plane that landed here is the part we were in.” 

“Wait. . .you mean. . .”

“Yup. No nose, no black box, no rest of the plane. We’re in our own personal version of Lost.” 

“I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel replied, wiping a hand down his face. 

“C’mon, Clarence, I’ll take you where the rest of us are setting up camp, we can figure out what to do next.” She turned and walked toward a clump of trees about thirty feet away. 

“That’s not my name,” Cas griped at Meg’s back. 

“Don’t care,” she sing-songed back, putting an extra wiggle in her hips. 

He closed his eyes briefly. Dean, he thought, I’ll figure out a way to get back to you, I swear it. 

“C’mon, slowpoke!”

“I’m coming,” he growled, and trod through the sand towards the trees. 

As they rounded the base of a tree, Cas laid eyes on his fellow survivors; the man on the left seated on a stump was blonde, with piercing light blue eyes. His face was rugged, but would have been handsome if not for the scowl on his face. He was slender, but seemed solidly built, dressed in a light blue shirt with the deepest v-neck Castiel had ever seen. He wore black slacks and black loafers that looked a little worse for wear. The other man was more stout, with close cut dark hair, a goatee and brown eyes so dark they could have been black. Despite the heat, he was dressed in a black suit, with a blood red tie. He was standing, arms crossed, his face twisted in a snarl. 

“-and I don’t bloody well care, you insolent little meatsack!” he spat, glaring at the blonde in an accent that seemed to veer between British and Scottish. 

“Darling, I don’t give a rat’s arse what you call me, but the fact of the matter is we need to make some sort of shelter at least for tonight,” the blonde shot back, upper crust British accent rolling neatly off his tongue. “Ah, and here’s Meg, back with a stray, I see,” he said, nodding to the new arrivals. 

“Boys, I told you to play nice while I was gone,” Meg chided, smirking.

Balthazar stood gracefully, extending a hand to Castiel. “Balthazar, and you are?”

“Castiel,” he answered, shaking Balthazar’s hand. He then held his hand out to the other man. “And you are?”

The darker man looked at Castiel’s hand like it was vile, sneering. “Crowley. Charmed, I’m sure,” he spat. 

Castiel took back his hand. “Are we all that’s left?” 

“Yup. It was just our little section that landed here, at least on this side of the island. I haven’t had time to check the rest, but I haven’t seen any other debris other than what’s here, so I’m makin’ an educated guess,” Meg answered, crouching down on the sand. “Our next move needs to be making a shelter, and trying to find a fresh water supply.” 

“That’s what I was trying to tell him, darling,” Balthazar cooed, winking at Meg. “Our dear Mr. Crowley -”

“Just Crowley, thank you,” the man interrupted. 

“-Crowley, insists that we build a fire on the beach to help our erstwhile rescuers locate us.” 

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know what time it is, but I know the light won’t last forever. Even if they have already mobilized search and rescue, I don’t know how much searching they would be able to do today. It also depends on how quickly they realize they lost contact with the plane. I think for tonight we need to worry about shelter, maybe scavenge what’s left of the plane for water or food, and worry about building a fire or a sign or something tomorrow.” 

“That’s three against one, Crowley, sorry about your luck,” Meg crowed. She stood, slapping sand off her shorts. “Zar, think you could start digging out a pit for a fire?”

“I could, but we have nothing to light it with,” he replied. 

“Let me worry about that, sweet cheeks. If you can find some rocks to line it with too, that’d be great.”

“So much for my manicure,” he groused, before kneeling in the sand to start digging.

Meg looked at Castiel next. “Clarence, why don’t you take grumpy over there, go search the plane? I’ll look around for what we could use for shelter.” 

“That’s still not my name,”Castiel replied, but turned to head back toward the wreckage.

Crowley scowled. “And what, exactly, are you going to be doing?” he spat. 

Meg arched a brow at his tone. “I’m gonna be looking for edible fruits and scouting for fresh water and materials that we could start grabbing to build a shelter with,” she answered. “Unless you’ve been out in the wilds enough that you know what’s safe to eat and what’s not by looking at it?” With a mocking salute, she turned and headed deeper into the greenery. 

“Bloody hell,” he growled, glaring at Balthazar who snickered quietly while digging. He turned on his heel and headed after Castiel. 

~~

“Any news?”

Dean looked up at the coffee cup his brother was waving in front of his face. He took it with a grateful look at his brother, taking a deep swallow before answering. “No, nothing yet. They’ve started the search though, found some pieces floating, but nothing solid yet.”

“Well, it’s only been a day. Hopefully they’ll have an update soon,” Sam said, taking a seat beside his brother. He looked over at his brother. Dean looked haggard, his eyes rimmed red. They were in the conference room of a nearby hotel, along with the other family members waiting for news. Sam had tried to get Dean to go home, to get a few hours sleep last night, but his brother had refused. 

“Have you heard from Gabe?” Sam asked. 

“His flight should be landing in about an hour,” Dean replied. “He texted me from Chicago.”

“Jess will be here soon, she’s getting you a sandwich from that deli you like.” 

His brother shook his head, looking down at the carpet. “Not hungry.”

“Wasn’t offering, Dean, I’m telling. You need to eat, Dean. You’ll be no good for anybody if you don’t take care of yourself.” 

Dean looked up at his brother then. His eyes were wet, but the tears didn’t fall. “I’m fine.” 

“Dude, you’re so not fine it isn’t funny. I know you don’t wanna miss anything, but Cas wouldn’t want you to make yourself sick. So, you’re eating, if I gotta sit on you and Jess force feed you.” 

Dean looked away, rubbing a hand roughly across his mouth. “That last phone call, and I didn’t tell him, Sammy. I’m so stupid, why can’t I just say the words?”

“Tell him what, Dean?” 

Dean continued as if Sam hadn’t spoken. “My stupid pride, that’s why. After all these years, even dead, Dad still wins. Why the fuck do I still let him win, Sammy?”

Sam frowned, then realized what Dean was getting at. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. “Hey. Cas knows you love him. He doesn’t need the words.” 

“When he got back, I was gonna ask him, Sammy.” His brother looked up at him then, and Sam’s heart broke to see the tear streak down the left side of Dean’s face. “I finally got the balls to get him a ring, and I was gonna ask him to marry me.” 

Sam tried hard not to let the surprise show on his face. He knew his brother was serious about Cas, that he loved Cas, but he never thought Dean would actually want that kind of commitment. Or any commitment, really. Dean had always been more of a ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ type, until he met Cas. Nobody was more surprised than Sam when what he thought would be a casual fling turned into a serious relationship between the two men. Dean hadn’t even told Sam he was bi until after their father died, and if Sam hadn’t walked in on him one day jerking off to gay porn Dean probably wouldn’t have ever told him. 

Sam was still searching for something to say, when the door opened. It was one of the officials from the airline, a paunchy, balding man named Zachariah who had been blunt to the point of rude. 

“Can I have everyone’s attention? Just wanted to come in with an update, so far they haven’t located the black box, but they have located more debris, and unfortunately they have started finding corpses. We are still looking for survivors, but with the amount and condition of the wreckage found so far, search and rescue are not very optimistic at this time. As soon as the bodies found have been identified, we will release the information to the families so they may make arrangements. That’s all for now,” he concluded, before turning and walking back toward the door, ignoring questions and shouts from the room as he exited. 

“Damn, what a douche,” Sam muttered, turning to look at his brother, but Dean was gone, striding across the room toward the door, his back stiff and angry. 

“Oh shit,” Sam whispered, scrambling after his brother. 

Dean slammed through the door behind Zachariah. “What the hell, man? You can’t just drop crap like that and walk off!”

Zachariah turned and gave Dean a smarmy smile. “I’ve given all the info I presently have, Mr.-?”

“Winchester, Dean Winchester.”

“Mr. Winchester. I find it to be a better use of my time to get back to the command center rather than stay and field questions I don’t have the answers for.” 

“That’s our families out there. And tellin’ people you found dead bodies? You couldn’t have put that another way, you insensitive dick?”

“Dean, I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that,” Sam interjected, putting a hand on his brother’s chest.

“The fuck he didn’t, Sammy,” Dean spat, glaring at his brother before leveling his stare on Zachariah. “What if that was your family, huh?” 

“I merely stated the facts that we have, I -” he cut off as Dean shoved him hard into the wall.

“Get your hands off me, you filthy little-”

“Dean!” A set of hands, surprisingly strong, and surprisingly not Sam’s, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him off the older man. “Get a grip, man, this ain’t helpin’.”

Dean spun around, ready to tear whoever it was a new one, but stopped. “Gabriel?” 

His boyfriend’s brother frowned at him. Eyes the color of aged whiskey eyed Dean as he raked a hand through his dark hair. “Mind tellin’ me why you’re yelling at the suit?”

“I don’t know who you are, but-” Zachariah tried to speak, but Gabriel cut him off with a sharp look and a pointed finger. 

“Get to you in a minute, bucko, it’s rude to interrupt.” 

“This guy came in here, talkin’ about all they’re findin’ is dead bodies, and how they ain’t gonna tell anybody shit until they’ve been ID’ed.” Dean looked up at Gabriel, and then looked away. “It was the way he said it,” he mumbled. 

“So,” Gabriel drawled, turning back to Zachariah, “if I’m gettin’ this correctly, you went in and told a bunch of worried families that all you’ve found is dead bodies? That about sum it up?”

“I merely gave them the information we have available, which is that all we’ve found so far is some wreckage and corpses.” Zachariah puffed out his chest in righteous indignation. 

“And you said it just like that?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” 

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at Zachariah. “So you mean to tell me, you went into a room full of grieving, worried people, and basically confirmed their worst fear in the rudest way possible?”

“I merely-” Zachariah blustered, his face flushing an angry red. 

“No, I think that’s enough from you. You stay right there, pal.” Gabriel pulled out his cell phone, and punched in a number. He waited while it rang, then spoke. “Mark! Hey buddy, it’s Gabe. Yeah, I just landed, thanks for getting me on that earlier flight. Look, there ain’t no easy way to say this, but your rep here, that’s the info liaison? He’s a dick. I just got here, and my brother in law is fighting mad because of how blunt and rude he was.” He was quiet for a few minutes, listening. He looked over at Dean. “What’s this asshat’s name?”

“Zachariah Adler,” Dean spat, his arms crossed as he glared at the portly man. 

“Zachariah Adler,” Gabriel repeated into the phone. “Uh huh. No, I didn’t hear it, but from what I gathered, he basically walked in and told the room that all they’ve found is corpses and wreckage.” He looked up at Dean and Sam again. “Did he take any questions or seem remorseful at all?”

“Nope,” Sam said. “There were people trying to ask, and he just blew them off and left the room.” 

“Yeah, that’d be a no on both counts.” Gabriel stilled again, listening. He looked up at Zachariah with a smirk. “He wants to talk to you,” he drawled, holding out the phone. 

Zachariah looked at the phone, then at Gabriel. With a sneer, he replied, “I don’t answer to you.” 

“No, you don’t, but you do, however, answer to Mark Sessall, CEO of the airline and my good friend, and that’s who wants to talk to you right now.”

Zachariah paled. “You’re bluffing.” 

“Am I? Really wanna take that chance?” Gabriel taunted, wagging the phone at him. 

“Give me that,” he growled, swiping the phone from his hand. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not -” he cut off with an audible gulp. As the other men watched, his face flushed red, then paled to an ash gray. “No, sir. I understand, sir. Yes.” Wordlessly he handed the phone back to Gabriel. 

“Mark? Yeah, man, thanks, you’re the best, seriously. Next time you’re in L.A., you got a table any time you want it buddy, meal on the house.” Gabriel laughed. “Yeah, drinks too. Seriously man,” he sobered. “Thank you.” He listened for a few more moments. “Yup, you too. Give my best to Leah and the girls, huh? Bye.”

He looked over at Zachariah, pale and sweating, anger etched in every line of his face. “I trust you’ve been given your orders, then?” he said, arching an eyebrow at the other man. 

“Yes,” the older man gritted out. “I’m to go in and apologize, and then to pack my desk.” He turned and glared at Dean. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” he spat, pushing off the wall and shoving past Dean roughly as he headed back toward the conference room. 

“Ecstatic,” Dean called behind him. He turned to Gabe. “Dude, you know the CEO?”

“Yup. Known each other since high school, and we get together as often as we can when he and the fam are in L.A.” He sighed, his body slumping as he rubbed a hand down his face. “So, other than captain douchnozzle, there’s no other news?” 

“No. Just that they’ve found debris and wreckage and. . .other things,” Dean replied, unable to say the word. “They haven’t found the black box yet either. But they’re still looking for survivors.” 

“Okay. So here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m starving, and with ole’ Zach getting shit-canned over the phone, it’ll be awhile before somebody else comes to replace him. Mark said he’d text me when they figured out who it would be, so that gives us some time. We’re gonna go eat.” 

“Nah, man, I don’t wanna-” Dean started, but was quickly cut off by both Sam and Gabriel. 

“Dean, no-” Sam started.

“Wasn’t asking, Deano, but thanks for playing,” Gabriel replied, cutting smoothly over both Sam and Dean. “You look like shit, and I’m betting you haven’t had a decent meal since before this whole mess. So you’re gonna come with me, and I’m buying us dinner. We won’t be gone long, I promise. Then we’ll be right back here.”

Dean eyed the shorter man. “Jess is bringing me a sandwich.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. He lifted the hand that still had his phone, and quickly punched in another number. “Jess? Hey sugarbutt, how’s tricks? Yeah, just got in. Was a whole lot of ugly when I got here, and I ain’t talkin’ about Sam and Dean.” He grinned at his phone. “Yeah. Hey, I’m gonna take Dean and Sam and we’re gonna force feed Dean, wanna join us? I was gonna just do fast food, I know Dean won’t wanna be gone that long.” He paused, listening. “Yeah, okay, the one by the antique mall? Yeah, I know where it is. We’ll meet you there. Yup, see ya.” He turned and looked at Dean, wagging his eyebrows.

“Fine. Thirty minutes, tops, and then I leave your ass to come back here,” Dean growled, checking his pockets for his car keys. 

“Deal,” Gabriel said, lifting his phone once more. “Deb? Hey, it’s Gabe, I need a favor. . .”


	3. Chapter 3

It’d been eight weeks since a suicide bomber had attacked Cas’ plane. 

It’d been seven weeks since search and rescue stopped looking for survivors and bodies. 

It’d been six weeks of trying to piece together the last moments of the plane, if there had been any attempt to hijack it, if any demands had been made. Six weeks since the news was full of talking heads going on about the Islamic State, ISIS, and how in the hell some jackass had managed to get a goddamn bomb through airport security in Tokyo. 

It’d been five weeks since the airline called off the search for the black box. 

It’d been four weeks since the mass funerals, the memorial services. Dean had thrown an absolute fit and refused to go to the one for Cas. 

_”He’s not dead, Sammy,” Dean snarled, shoving his brother hard._

_“Dean, I know this is hard, but I really think-”_

_“You know what’s hard? Havin’ to listen to everybody tell me he’s dead. He’s not, okay? He’s just not. I’d know if he were dead.”_

_“Dean, I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.” Sam held his hands up in a gesture of peace. “I don’t know what I would do if it were Jess. I really don’t. But this, what you’re doing here?” He gestured to the empty whiskey bottles on practically every surface of the living room, “This isn’t helping, man.”_

_“Get out.” Dean glared at his little brother, posture stiff and angry._

_“Dean, c’mon, Cas wouldn’t want you to be like this.”_

_“Don’t talk about him! You don’t- I can’t-” In a swift movement, Dean grabbed the nearest bottle and chucked it at the wall. He threw another, and another. Somewhere around the fifth or sixth, he started screaming. No words, just howls of anger and pain._

_Sam waited, his heart breaking for his brother. Finally, finally, Dean stopped. His whole body sagged, and he went to his knees. “I can’t Sammy. I just. . .” He looked up at Sam then, tears running down his face. “I love him, and I can’t.”_

_Walking slowly toward his brother, he knelt in front of him and hugged him, as Dean gripped him tight and sobbed._

Three weeks since he’d left his apartment. If it weren’t for Jo and Ash bringing him food, he’d have probably starved. 

Two weeks since he took down every picture in the house of Cas. 

One week since he packed them up, then unpacked them again. Finally he stuffed them all in a closet in the guest room. 

Three days since he’d sat in the bottom of Cas’ closet, holding a bottle of his favorite cologne to his nose, trying desperately to remember what he smelled like. 

Two days since he’d dropped Cas’ bee mug, his favorite, and it broke. He’d cried for over an hour, trying to glue the pieces back together. 

Yesterday, he’d woke up, and knew what he had to do. 

~~

“You want to do what?” Sam’s voice was incredulous through the phone speaker. 

“I wanna charter a boat, I wanna go look for Cas.” Dean was searching on the internet for long term boat rentals. “I’m thinking a small yacht, something that can handle deep water, but nothing huge.” 

“Dean, there’s no way you can afford that, not to mention this is a terrible idea. Look, I’m glad you’re a little more, you, but this kind of denial isn’t healthy, man. I still think you need to make an appointment with Pamela-”

“Gonna stop you right there, Sammy. I don’t need a shrink, ‘cause Cas ain’t dead. I know it, and I’m gonna go find him. As for the money, I got plenty of it. Hell, I could blow everything I had on this and I wouldn’t give a damn.” 

“Dean, boat rentals are expensive. Not to mention how long you’d have to be gone, man, it’s not like a plane, you can’t get there in a couple of hours. Not to mention you have no idea where to look!”

“Sam,” Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and sitting back in his desk chair. “Do you remember that job I did last year, for the Saudi prince?”

“What, that replica Porsche, the ‘Little Bastard’?”

“That’s the one. I got ten mil for that one job. My business made seven digits in profits last year. I can afford this.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“As a heart attack.” 

“But Dean, speaking of your business, you haven’t been there in over two months. Now you’re gonna take off for who knows how long? What’s gonna happen to it?”

“First off, nobody’s burned down the shop yet, so I’m pretty safe there. For another, Charlie hired another mechanic to do what I did, and I already talked to Bobby, he’s gonna come and run things while I’m gone.”

“Seriously? Bobby’s retired.”

“Yeah, well, I promised him all he’d have to do is keep a desk chair warm and keep the others from killing each other.” 

Sam snorted. “Fat chance that. He’ll be elbow deep in grease before you can say ‘Balls’.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah. So I’m looking at charter companies right now.”

“Dean,” his brother sighed. “I just don’t think this is a good idea.” 

“No, you wouldn’t. But I’m doing it anyway.” 

“I’m coming by after work, jerk, and we’re gonna talk more about this. But I gotta go, my lunch hour’s up.” 

“If you feel you must, bitch.” 

Dean hung up on his brother’s goodbye, frowning at his laptop. He hadn’t found what he was looking for yet, but he was determined. 

He’d searched for hours, made what seemed like a thousand phone calls. Everyone he’d contacted had either laughed in his face or weren’t equipped to handle a deep sea excursion like Dean wanted. He leaned back with a sigh, before getting up. He needed more coffee. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy, in the kitchen,” Dean answered, heaving another sigh.

“Deano! How’s it hangin’!” Gabriel called, swinging up to sit on the countertop, popping a sucker in his mouth. 

“Gabriel.” Dean looked at Sam. “What, you needed backup or something?”

“Dean,” Sam sighed, running a hand through his shoulder length hair, “if you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to him.” 

“All Sam told me was that you were gonna try and do something stupid, and that it involved my baby brother,” Gabriel said, after Dean shot him a look. He shrugged. “So lay it on me, bro.” 

“I’m gonna hire a boat and look for Cas.” Dean busied himself with putting grounds and water in the coffee maker, avoiding the other men’s gazes. 

Both men were quiet for a moment, exchanging glances. Gabriel spoke first. “Where, exactly, were you planning on looking?”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy,” Dean said, “but I need this. I don’t believe he’s gone. Just something inside me is telling me that he’s out there, and the rest of the world has given up.” He looked up at his brother and Gabriel. “I wanna do a grid search starting from where they last had contact with the plane to where they found the debris. Kinda like when those guys were looking for the Titanic, ‘cept I’m looking for a person.” 

“You know the likelihood of finding anybody, let alone Cassie, alive after all this time, is slim to none, right?” Gabriel asked gently.

“I know,” Dean said, looking down at the tile between his feet. “I dream about him every night. I dream about him asking me, begging me to save him. Calling for me. I need to do this.” 

“Have you found a boat?” Gabriel asked. 

“No,” Dean huffed. “Everybody I’ve called has either thought I was off my rocker or didn’t have the kinda boat to go deep water like that.” 

“I might know a guy,” Gabriel mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

“Gabe, no, don’t encourage him, that’s the exact opposite of what needs to happen here!” Sam exclaimed. 

“Samsquatch, Deano here is gonna go whether we want him to or not. Unless you were to physically restrain him, I don’t see how you can stop him. At least with my guy I know he’ll come back and not be murdered by pirates. Plus, if he goes, I go.” 

“Wait, what?” Dean snorted. “Nobody invited you, Gabe. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re fun at parties and all, but no, this is my gig.” 

“And that’s my baby brother, in case you forgot. The only one I got. Plus my guy ain’t cheap, and it’ll be better if we split the cost.” 

“Guys,” Sam said, his face creased with worry, “I seriously don’t think this is the healthy way to deal with your loss.” 

“I know you own like a buncha restaurants, Gabe, but I ain’t hurtin’ for money. I can afford this, I don’t need you.” Dean looked over at his brother. “Sammy, I know you’re probably never gonna understand, but I have to do this. I am doing this. I don’t need your permission or your blessing.”

“I don’t go, you don’t get a boat. My guy’s probably the only one crazy enough to pull this off,” Gabriel shot back with a smirk. 

“Dean, please man, you need help, not to go on a wild goose chase. That goes for you too, Gabe. You’ve both got to let Cas go, move on.” 

Dean sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Sammy, c’mon, don’t be like that. What would you do, if it were Jess, huh? Or me?”

“I’d move on, Dean. That’s what I’d do,” Sam replied, arms crossed with a scowl. “It’d hurt, and it wouldn’t be easy, but I’d accept it and do my damndest to live a life she’d be proud of.” 

“Really? The love of your life, or your only family left in this world, and you’d just give up? I call bullshit, Sam,” Dean replied, arching an eyebrow at his brother. 

“You can call whatever you want, Dean, but it’s the truth. If you want to pursue this, I’m not going to stop you.” Sam sighed harshly, raking a hand through his long hair. “But when you come back, you’re going to Pamela. No arguments,” he said, pinning his brother with a glare. 

Dean held up his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, Sammy.” 

Sam looked between the two of them, quietly willing the two of them to see reason. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head, and left the house without another word. 

“So, that was all kinds of not fun,” Gabriel mused, eyeing Dean. 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “I knew he wasn’t gonna be happy.” He looked up at the smaller man perched on his counter. “And you’re sure your guy will do this?”

“He owes me one, as long as he’s not already got another job right now, yeah.”

“Call him.” 

~~

Castiel stood on the beach, just slightly above the high tide line. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky with brilliant corals and pinks that reflected on the water. It was honestly his favorite time of day. He used the time to think, to breathe, flowing from one pose to another, centering his body and his mind. Some of the poses were more challenging than others, as it was harder to keep his balance on the shifting sand. He liked it, however, liked the challenge and felt it was making him stronger. He moved smoothly from Chaturanga to Up Dog, holding the pose and feeling the tension drain from his lower back. After a long pause, he shifted into Down Dog, feeling the stretch in the backs of his calves and his shoulders. He felt the first rays of the sun as it peeked over the horizon, and relished the warmth on his bare skin. It would be hot later, but for now the warmth was welcome. A pair of ball shorts hung loosely on his hips, the satiny material making soft sounds as he moved. 

“Now, that is a view worth waking up early for, Clarence.” Meg’s voice floated like a sultry breeze. 

“The sunrises are part of why I come here so early,” Castiel answered, easing up into Mountain. 

“Wasn’t talkin’ about the sun, sweetness.” Castiel could practically hear the grin. He sighed as he dropped his arms and turned to face her. “While I appreciate the sentiment-”

“I know, you love your Dean, yadda yadda,” Meg interrupted, flapping her hand in a careless gesture. “I don’t wanna marry you, Clarence, I just wanna let off some steam.” 

“The answer’s still no, Meg. I’m sure Balthazar would be all too happy to oblige you, yet again.” 

“He’s a little busy with Crowley lately,” she smirked, crossing her arms across her ample chest. Today she wore a bikini top and a pair of short shorts, barefoot on the hot sand. Her sandals hung from a small piece of rope tied to a belt loop on her waist. Her dark curls were tied up atop her head, with loose tendrils teased loose by the wind framing her heart shaped face. 

“Seriously? I wouldn’t have thought Crowley would have stooped to having mortal needs,” Castiel grinned, picking up a tee shirt from the sand and mopping sweat from his face and chest with it. 

“Apparently he does,” Meg replied, giving him an evil smirk. “So for now I’m odd woman out again.” She looked at him appreciatively. “Still waitin’ for you to change your mind.” 

“Not going to happen, Meg,” he answered, giving her a small smile to take the sting from his words. “But if you ask me nicely I’ll help you fish today.”

“Deal,” she said, joining him on the walk back to camp. 

In the two months they’d been here, they’d managed to make a home of sorts. Meg had been instrumental in their survival. Turned out, she’d made a living teaching ‘rich assholes’ how to survive in the wild. 

”Basically, I take groups out into different terrains, teach them how to survive. Sometimes a corporation will hire me to take out a bunch for a team building thing. I can usually tailor it to the group. Had this one guy, though, wanted the whole Bear Grylls experience. Told him I could do it, but I drew the line at drinking piss.” 

Even Crowley had cracked a smile at that. She’d taught them how to make spears by sharpening pieces of wood with rocks, to fish with. She’d managed to fashion a makeshift axe using a decent sized piece of the plane wreckage and a hefty chunk of driftwood, which she used to cut down pieces of bamboo to build their shelter with. 

Using the extra clothing they’d managed to scavenge from luggage that didn’t fit their party, Crowley was able to put his skills as a tailor to good use, making pouches and bags for carrying supplies. He’d also used some of the fabric to make pallets and pillows. Small things that you took for granted until you didn’t have them anymore. 

Balthazar, or Zar as he preferred to be called, had been a chef, and did the majority of the cooking for the group. The division of labor actually worked out well among the group. Every day, Castiel and Meg would go fishing and check the traps Meg had made for shellfish. Zar had tried to learn how, but honestly didn’t have the patience for it Castiel and Meg did. He was perfectly happy being responsible for gathering firewood and cooking. Crowley was in charge of gathering the water each day, as well as any edible plants he could find. Lately, he and Zar had taken to doing their chores together, which Castiel supposed was how they’d ended up sleeping together. Personally, he didn’t care as long as he didn’t have to see or listen to it. 

He peered down into the crystal blue water, spear poised at shoulder height, doing his utmost to remain absolutely still. So far the only fish he’d seen were too small to spear, so he waited. The trick to spear fishing, Meg had said, was to make the fish think you were simply part of the environment, to lull them into a false sense of security. Castiel had thought he’d had patience before. He quickly learned that spearfishing was a whole other level of patience that he had to work to achieve. A dark shadow drew his attention, and he held his breath as he waiting, silently willing the fish to come closer. Meg was out in the deeper water, but Castiel couldn’t hold his breath like she could, so he stuck to the shallows. “C’mon,” he whispered, silently willing the fish to swim closer. 

His concentration was shattered a second later by Zar’s loud cry. “Cassie!”

He started, and cursed when he saw the fish dart away. He turned and scowled at the blonde. “Dammit, Balthazar,” he started, but the other man cut him off. 

“You have to come, Cassie, he’s hurt, bleeding, I don’t know what to do!” 

“Crowley?” Castiel asked, already wading toward the shore. 

“He fell, there was a rock or something, cut the fuck out of his leg, he’s bleeding like a stuck pig.” Zar was breathing hard. “I ran straight to get you.” 

Castiel quickly pulled his shoes on, only wincing slightly at the feel of wet sand rubbing against his feet. “Get me those little liquor bottles, and I’ll grab the first aid kit. Where is he?” 

“I got him back to camp, then ran to get you.” 

Castiel nodded, and both men took off back to camp. As both men broke through the brush, Castiel found Crowley propped up next to the fire, holding tight to his belt. Either he or Zar had been smart enough to use it as a tourniquet, From here Castiel could see the wound, a nasty looking gash that spread from his knee to mid-thigh. The tourniquet was tied above it, he noted approvingly, with Crowley’s fist holding it in place at his hip. 

“Here, Cassie,” Zar said breathlessly, holding out three of the mini bottles of liquor. 

“I surely hope at least one of those is for me,” Crowley said dryly, even as he winced with pain. 

“If you’re a good patient, sure,” Castiel replied, before holding the three out to him. “Dealer’s choice.” 

“Give me the bloody bourbon,” Crowley panted. “Zar, be a dear, and open it for me?”

Wordlessly Balthazar opened the bottle and Crowley quickly chugged it, grimacing. 

Castiel knelt in the sand next to him, sorting through the first aid kit. “I need some water, I need to clean it out and see how bad it is. And some of the scrap cloth. Zar?” 

“On it,” the man answered, hopping up to grab a few bottles of water and some of the rags. He handed both to Castiel, who turned to Crowley. “I’m going to rinse this out, so I can try to see how deep it is, I need you to hold still and keep hold on the belt, okay? Good job, by the way, whoever's idea that was.”

“It was mine,” Crowley said through gritted teeth as Castiel began to slowly pour water over the wound. 

The wound was long but shallow, thankfully. “Good news, it’s not that deep, so I think we can fix it with some stitches. But,” he looked up at Crowley as he uncapped a bottle of vodka, “I’ve gotta clean it out, and this is gonna hurt.”

“Bloody hell,” Crowley muttered, closing his eyes briefly. He scowled when he noticed Castiel looking at him, as if waiting. “What, you need my bloody permission? Do it already!” 

“I’ll hold his leg, Zar, grab his shoulders and try to keep him still.” Once the other man was in position, Castiel gripped Crowley’s leg firmly just below the knee, pushing down hard as he started the pour the alcohol over the wound. 

Crowley screamed, ragged and sharp, throwing his head back. Castiel hated being the cause of such pain, but better to cause pain now than to have infection later. Taking the suture kit from the first aid box, he was thankful it came pre-threaded. He splashed some of the vodka over the needle and his own hands. He looked up at the other two men. “I need you to hold still, but I’ll be as quick as I can, okay?”

Crowley, breathing ragged, only closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping. He twitched when Castiel started the first stitch, but otherwise was still, small grunts of pain escaping from behind clenched teeth. 

“Damn, Clarence, what happened?”

Without looking up from the stitches, Castiel replied. “Thankfully only a minor injury.”

Meg knelt beside him. “Looks pretty nasty.” 

“He fell trying to reach for a coconut,” Zar said. “Scared the hell out of me.” 

“Guess you were right about not drinking the booze, huh Clarence?” Meg teased. 

“Yes, Meg, I forgot to tell you, but I possess the gift of clairvoyance, I saw this happening and wanted to be prepared,” Castiel replied dryly. 

Meg snorted, then got to her feet. “I’m guessing you didn’t get anything, but I got a big one, so I’m gonna go get it ready for Zar to do his thing.” 

The last stitch finished, Castiel dabbed the area with some antibiotic cream and bandaged it up. He looked up at Crowley. “You need to stay off it for a few days, and when you do start getting up and around again, you need to be careful so you don’t pop a stitch. Keep it as clean as you can, if it starts to feel hot to the touch, or you see redness around the area, you need to tell me immediately.”

Crowley, his face creased with pain, only nodded. 

“Zar, let’s get him into the shelter, he’ll be more comfortable in there and maybe he can sleep a bit before dinner.” At Zar’s nod, he and Castiel managed to maneuver the larger man into the shelter, laying him on his pallet. Castiel held up the last bottle of alcohol with a small smile. “Doctor’s orders,” he said. 

“Bless you, you angel among men,” Crowley said, grabbing the bottle greedily. He ripped the cap off, drinking quickly. He looked at Castiel. “Thank you,” he said gruffly. 

“You’re welcome,” Castiel answered, before turning to clean up and put away the supplies. 

After cleaning up, he wandered back down to the beach. He knelt in the sand, just above the high tide mark. As he looked out across the seemingly endless expanse of water, he wondered what Dean was doing. Does he miss me? Does he think I’m dead? He wondered. As he did everyday, he closed his eyes. He didn’t pray to God, never really did, but for whatever reason, he found comfort in thinking of Dean, of talking to him, even if it was only in his mind. 

_Hello, Dean. It’s been about two months since we landed here, as near as I can tell. Things are starting to get a little easier now, since we’ve got a more permanent camp set up. It’s funny, however, how much you miss little things, like cheeseburgers and air conditioning. Little luxuries that you take for granted. If I ever make it back to you, make it off this island, I never want to look at a coconut or fish again. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. I miss you, so damn much. I see you in my dreams, and when I wake up, it’s like a nightmare I can’t escape from, being here without you. I want to have hope, I want to believe that we’ll be rescued, that I’ll see you again. But with every passing day, that hope dies a little. I love you, so much, I’ll always love you. But I’m so afraid I’ll never see you again, never get to hold you in my arms again, or kiss you until we’re both breathless. We will see each other again, in this life, or the next. I love you Dean. I always will._

Castiel took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He wiped away the few tears that had trickled down, scrubbing his face roughly. He stood slowly, brushing the sand from his legs. He faced the horizon, pressing a kiss to his fingertips and holding it out toward the sky. After a long moment, he lowered his arm, and headed slowly back to the camp.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean squinted against the early morning sun. Everything stank of fish and sea water. “Dude better be on the level,” he grumbled. 

“Just wait’ll you see her, man, she’s a beaut!” Gabriel crowed, walking backwards towards the marina. 

“At least it’s not a plane,” Dean sighed quietly, shoving his sunglasses back up his nose. 

Gabriel led the way across the marina, unwrapping a candy bar and taking a healthy chunk out of it. 

“Dude, how do you not have diabetes? All I ever see you eat is junk, and comin’ from me, that’s sayin’ a lot.” 

“Good genes, man, what can I say?” Gabriel shot back with a wink. “There she is!” he cried, pointing. 

The boat in question was indeed a beauty; Dean had to smile because she was the same color as his Baby. Even her windows were tinted near black, with the metal railing around the front and back the only break in color. There looked to be an open air deck on the back, and the top had some kind of funky ball shape on top. Dean wasn’t really sure what it was for, but figured if he needed to know, someone would tell him. 

Both men came to a stop near the edge of the boat. “Yo, Benny!” Gabriel called. “Get your lazy ass out here, you ragin’ Cajun!”

Dean shot Gabriel an exasperated look. “Really?”

“Dude, you’ll love him, he’s a teddy bear.”

A sliding glass door opened at the rear of the boat, and a tall, stocky man stepped out. He wore a white short sleeve shirt, suspenders and dark slacks, with a flat watchman’s cap on his head. His eyes lit on Gabriel and he smiled. “Well, lookie what the cat drug in,” he drawled, stepping quickly from the boat to the dock. “How’s tricks, Chief?” he said, before hugging Gabriel warmly. 

“Eh, not so good these days, man,” Gabriel answered. 

The smile faded from the other man’s face. “I was so damn sorry to hear about Cassie. I know you two was real close.” 

“Yeah, about that. . .” Gabriel said, turning toward Dean. “This is Dean Winchester. He was Cassie’s boyfriend.” 

“Benny Lafitte, at yer service, brotha. So sorry for your loss,” Benny said, reaching out a hand for Dean to shake. 

“He’s not dead,” Dean said flatly, shaking Benny’s hand. 

Benny shot Gabriel a curious look. “We wanna do our own search and rescue. And we wanna hire you to take us.”

Light blue eyes widened with shock. “Chief, you know I owe you, I’d do anythin’ for you, but this seems an awful lot like a fool’s errand. You get that, don’t you cher?”

“He’s the only family I got left, Benny,” Gabriel replied softly. “Plus, Deano here was the love of his life. Dean swears that he’d know if Cas bit the big one, and dammit if I don’t believe him.” 

Benny looked between the two men, shaking his head. “Ya’ll even have a clue where to start lookin’? If the pro search ‘n rescue couldn’t find ‘em, what makes you think we can?”

“Dude, c’mon, I know damn good and well that you got together your part of the money for the boat from treasure hunting. You found shit that shoulda never been found. If anybody can help us, it’d be you.” 

Benny sighed. “C’mon aboard, lemme pull out some maps, give me an idea of where you’re wantin’ to start the search.” He started to turn, then stopped, and looked at both men. “I ain’t sayin’ yes, just yet, but I ain’t sayin’ no, either.” With that he turned and hopped back on board, leaving Dean and Gabriel to follow in his wake. 

~~

Every man has his breaking point. Castiel’s was listening to Crowley, Zar, and Meg have very enthusiastic sex. Crowley, using his injury as an excuse, had decided that he wished to celebrate his ‘near death experience’ by having as much sex, with multiple partners, as he could. Every night for the last two months, Castiel had taken refuge on the beach, sleeping under the stars and rising with the sun. He’d decided that enough was enough, and so the sunrise found him using Meg’s makeshift axe to cut down more bamboo to make another shelter. 

“You’re looking productive this morning, Clarence.” 

Castiel wiped sweat from his brow, and turned to look at Meg. “I hope to be, anyway.” 

“I wondered how long it would take you,” she mused, giving him a smirk. “Though I can’t help wishing you’d join the fun instead of running away.” 

“I’m not running away.” He cut another notch into the thick bamboo. “I have no issues with what you all do, I just don’t want to listen to it.” 

“Relax, Clarence, I’m just yanking your chain. Want some help?” 

Castiel sighed as he stood up straight, wincing at the tightness in his lower back. “Yes, please.” 

With two people, and Meg’s expertise, the work went quickly. The small shelter was just large enough for Castiel to string up a makeshift hammock, as well as some makeshift pouches to keep his meager belongings above the ground. A patchwork curtain was hung over the doorway, to give a modicum of privacy as well as keep the elements out. 

“Thank you Meg. I appreciate your help.” Castiel grinned at the petite brunette. 

“No sweat, Clarence. Glad to be of service,” she drawled, shooting Castiel as saucy wink. “C’mon, let’s go see what Zar whipped up for lunch, I’ve worked up an appetite.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I hope you mean for food.” 

“Guess you’ll have to come along and find out, huh hot stuff?” she shot over her shoulder, already headed back in the direction of camp. 

Shaking his head, he chuckled at her sass and let her lead him back to the main camp. 

~~

“Boys, we gotta problem.” Benny’s face was grim as he pointed to the map currently spread out on the table. “Radio’s been goin’ apeshit with warnings about this Typhoon Irma, supposed to be a category five.” He made a small dot with a pencil on the map, then moving the pencil forward about two inches or so, he make a light circle. “That dot? That’s us. That circle? That’s the typhoon.” He looked at both Dean and Gabriel. “We’re gonna have to run south to avoid it, and that’s gonna put us way off course from our search. And prob’ly fuck up any debris that we mighta’ found.” 

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Dean asked. He threw his hands up defensively when Benny glared at him. “I’m just asking, I know jack and shit about boats, and what the hell is a typhoon?” 

“Typhoons are the same as hurricanes, that’s what they call ‘em here, Deano,” Gabe answered. 

“An’ as for the boat, a cat five is gonna have huge waves, plus strong winds, and ships that get caught in ‘em tend to sink,” Benny added. “That’s why we gotta avoid it, and we gotta do it now.” 

Dean sighed in frustration. It’d been two weeks, and they’d found nothing. “I get it man, I do. I’m not arguing, I was just asking. Do what you gotta do man.” 

Gabriel put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We knew this was a long shot, but maybe we’ll get lucky, maybe the storm will churn something up, give us a new direction.” 

Dean scrubbed a rough hand over his face. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied, giving Gabe a weak smile. 

“There is some good news, though,” Benny said, looking back down at the map. “By goin’ due south from our current position, we’re gonna run into some little uninhabited islands. Might be able to find some fresh water, and stretch our legs on shore for a day or so, ‘till the storm’s moved on.” 

Dean brightened at bit at that. The first week aboard the ship had been a nightmare of sea sickness, until he’d finally acclimated. Getting to spend some time on dry land was an exciting prospect. 

Benny stood from the table they’d gathered around. “I’ma go put in the new coordinates, and relieve Andrea for a spell. Ya’ll get some sleep.” With a nod to both men, he left the room, headed for the bridge and his wife. 

Dean shot an amused look at Gabriel. Benny’s wife Andrea was a dark as he was fair, with olive skin and jet black hair. Poised and beautiful, she was bold and forthright, gleefully sharing stories of different voyages and difficult clients as easily as she told of drinking her future husband under the table on their first date. Both Dean and Gabe liked her greatly, and she had been a welcome addition to the crew. 

Gabriel yawned loudly. “Gettin’ late, think I’ll hit the hay. Night Deano,” he drawled, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he passed. 

“Yeah, night, Gabe.” 

Dean sat quietly for a few minutes, looking at the map. The small islands Benny had mentioned were apparently too small to mark on the map, and he wondered how Benny knew they were there. He stood and walked to the window, but all he could see was his own reflection, the outside too dark and the cabin too bright. He touched the glass, hesitant, then placed his palm against it. 

“I’m not giving up, Cas,” he said softly. “This is just a detour, but I’m still comin’ for ya, baby. I know you’re still out there, and I know you can’t hear me, but I’ll find you. Everybody thinks I’m crazy, but I just can’t shake this feeling, that you’re alive. Alive and waiting for me to come find you.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I love you Cas. Always will.” He sighed again, and dropped his hand from the glass. “Always.”   
~~

“Clarence!”

Castiel woke with a start at Meg’s shout. Squinting his eyes against the sudden brightness, he looked over at the makeshift doorway, Meg silhouetted against the morning sun. 

“Get up, Clarence, you gotta come see this!” His friend practically vibrated with excitement. 

Castiel groaned as he rolled out of the hammock, shuffling his feet into his shoes and pulling on a shirt. “Why are you up so early?” he grumbled. 

“I was out helping Zar get water, and we saw something. Come on!” she whooped, snagging him by the wrist and tugging hard enough that Castiel stumbled forward. Relentless, she dragged him behind her, moving through the brush to the main camp and then beyond. She only let go as they started to climb one of the hills, towards the fresh water spring they had found. At the top, breathless from the climb, Castiel looked around. “I don’t see anything.”

Meg grinned, and pointed behind him. “That’s what I brought you up here to see.” 

Castiel turned around. The top of the hill was high enough to give a good view of the whole island. It was beautiful, the sun sparkling off the waves, but his breath caught in his throat as he saw what Meg meant. “Oh my God, is that. . .” he trailed off, feeling his eyes prickle with tears. 

“Yeah. It is. I just spotted it right before I came to get you, Zar’s back down at camp with Crowley, you and me are gonna go introduce ourselves and see if we can get the hell off this island.” 

The ship looked like a small yacht, sleek and black. It was anchored on the south side of the island, the opposite from where Castiel and the others had made camp. From this distance it was hard to see anything more, but it was enough. Still, things could be too good to be true. “What if they’re pirates? What if they try to kill us?” 

“Clarence, I could give a shit if they are pirates, I’d give them every dime I had back home and I’d fuck them all silly if they took me away from this damn island,” Meg said, her normal smirk absent. “And if they kill us, if no one ever found us we’d die here anyway. What do we really have to lose?” 

Castiel chewed his lip in thought. After a moment, he nodded. “You’re right. Not about the fucking them silly part, but the rest,” he paused, smiling at Meg. “Wanna go meet some maybe pirates?” he teased. 

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day, Clarence,” Meg replied. 

It took them even less time to clamber back down the hill than to scale it, excitement and nerves singing through their veins. It took another fifteen minutes or so to reach the south side of the island, where the ship was anchored. She was out probably a few hundred feet or so from shore, but from the beach they could make out more details than from the hilltop. 

“I don’t see any movement,” Castiel frowned, shielding his eyes from the glare on the water. 

“Maybe they’re still asleep?” She checked her watch. “It’s still early yet.” 

“I wonder when they got here?” 

“Had to be yesterday, sometime after the last water run.” 

As they watched, a figure came out of one of the side doors, stretching in the sunlight. Both Castiel and Meg froze for a second, before they both began waving and screaming, trying to get the man’s attention. It worked, because the figure jerked toward them at the sound of their yells, and ran to the port side rail. After a moment he ran back inside. Castiel felt his heart sink. Surely someone wouldn’t be so callous as to just leave at the sign of life? His breath stuttered in his chest when the man reappeared a few moments later, dragging another man with him. From this distance Castiel could only tell that this one was of smaller stature than the other, but the taller one now had what looked like a pair of binoculars in his hands, and raised them to his eyes. Castiel and Meg waved furiously at both men. To their complete and utter surprise, the taller figure looked at the shorter one, thrust the binoculars into his chest, and climbed on top of the rail and dove into the water. 

“Uhh, what?” Meg said, watching the mysterious man swim hard toward shore. 

“I’ve no idea,” Castiel murmured. They both watched, torn between watching the man swim to shore, and the second man still aboard the ship who was waving and shouting himself, but too faintly to make out the words.

Meanwhile the swimmer had reached the shallows, and staggered to his feet. Castiel felt his heart pound in his chest as the man’s head came up, and he found himself staring into green eyes. Very familiar green eyes. Castiel knees trembled, he felt Meg grab his arm to steady him, then he lurched into a stumbling run towards the other man. Dimly he heard Meg calling for him, but he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. 

“Cas,” Dean croaked, a split second before Castiel crashed into him, wrapping his arms around him tightly.


	5. Chapter 5

It still felt like a dream. Even after getting to see Cas, to hold him, to kiss him again, it still didn’t feel real. Cas looked different from the last time Dean saw him; he was leaner, and deeply tanned, with lighter brown streaks in his dark hair. They’d crashed to their knees on the beach, still holding each other, crying and kissing, before the other person with Cas cleared her throat quite loudly. 

Castiel grinned at the petite beauty, and Dean shoved down an unwelcome tendril of jealousy. “Meg, this is Dean.” 

Her eyes went wide. “Dean? Your Dean?” At Castiel’s nod, she grinned. “Well, nice to see Clarence didn’t exaggerate your looks, hot stuff,” she teased. 

“Clarence?” Dean frowned at Cas, who rolled his eyes. 

“Meg thinks it’s an appropriate nickname, for some reason.” 

Dean’s frown melted into a smile. “I get it,” he chuckled, his arm around Cas’ waist as he pressed a kiss to his temple. “Never heard any bells though.” 

Meg laughed. “I like this one, Clarence, you can keep him.” 

~~

They left out the next morning, after celebrating the night before. They’d still have another two months, give or take, before they’d be back in the States, but knowing that they were headed home had made even Crowley laugh with joy. They’d drank and told stories, some about life on the island, some about Dean’s sea sickness, and laughed and cried until late in the night. Thankfully the yacht had three bedrooms (not counting Benny and Andrea’s), it wasn’t overly crowded. Zar and Crowley ended up in one cabin, Dean and Cas in another, and surprisingly, Gabe and Meg in the last. 

“I can’t believe your brother and Meg, man,” Dean laughed, closing the door to their cabin. 

Castiel grinned. “Meg told me she was excited about the ‘fresh meat’,” he chuckled, raising his hands to do air quotes. 

Dean turned to lock the door, then let out his breath in a rush as Cas crowded him against the door. “Well, hello sunshine,” he teased, feeling the other man’s thick erection against his hip. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel whispered, already mouthing along Dean’s jaw and neck. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?” 

“Not half as much as I’ve missed you,” he gasped, his hands going to Cas’ hips to pull him closer, leaning his head back against the door to give other man better access. 

“I highly doubt it,” Cas growled, nipping along Dean’s throat and kissing away the sting, while grinding his hips against the other man’s. 

“Ah, fuck, Cas,” Dean panted, his hands wandering underneath Cas’ tee, smoothing over the velvety soft skin of his back. “God, I missed this.” 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Cas growled, manhandling Dean away from the door and pushing him to the middle of the small cabin. 

The movement cleared Dean’s head a little, and he remembered what he wanted to do. “Hold on, Cas, I need to do something.” 

Cas arched one eyebrow at him, pausing in unzipping Dean’s pants. Sneaky little bastard, Dean hadn’t even noticed him undoing the button. “More important than sex?”

Dean swallowed hard. Cas knew what that look did to him, the asshole. Gently, he pulled Cas’ hands away from his pants, and took a step back. Castiel’s expression melted from aroused to unsure. “Dean?” 

“I gotta do something first, Cas. It’s important.” 

Frowning, Cas nodded. “Okay.” 

Nervous butterflies whirled in Dean’s stomach, but he determined. “Have a seat, Cas,” he said, before turning away to dig in the top drawer of the dresser.

Castiel sat, worried thoughts running through his head. Was Dean breaking up with him? Surely he wouldn’t have come all this way, just to leave now. He looked up as Dean turned back to face him, one fist clenched as he walked toward the bed. 

“Cas, I -”, Dean started, then swallowed hard. “I was so lost without you, I swore, if I ever got the chance, I would make sure you knew how much you mean to me.” 

Castiel felt his heart swell. He gave Dean a soft smile. “Dean, I know you have trouble with the words -” 

“Yeah, not just that, Cas,” Dean said gently, having moved close enough to place a finger across Cas’ lips, shushing him. He took a deep breath, and slowly lowered himself to one knee. His right hand pulled one of Cas’ from his side to his lip, kissing it softly. Castiel had gone completely still, eyes wide. When Dean extended his left hand, nestled in his palm lay a shining silver band, with My Angel engraved with a set of wings to each side. 

“I’ve had this since you left, had it specially made,” Dean breathed, locking eyes with the other man. “I almost lost you once, I don’t wanna do it again.” He smiled then, squeezing the other man’s hand. “I love you, Castiel, will you marry me?” 

Castiel could feel the tears gathering, could feel them streak down his face when he closed his eyes. “Say it again,” he said roughly, squeezing Dean’s hand tight. 

“What?” Dean replied, confusion evident in his tone. 

Cas opened his eyes then, smiling through his tears. “Say it again, tell me you love me again.”

Dean smiled again. “I love you Cas. Always have, always will. I’m so sorry it took me almost losing you to be man enough to say it.” 

Dean refused to admit that the sound he made when Cas hauled him from the floor onto his lap was anything but a manly sound of surprise, but in between the flurry of kisses, he managed to gasp out, “So, is that a yes?”

Cas paused long enough to glare. “Of course it’s a yes, Dean. Don’t ask stupid questions,” he growled, before pulling Dean back in for another kiss. 

~~

Two years later

“Dean! Hurry up, or we’re going to be late!” Castiel called, pulling on his jacket. “Charlie is going to meet us there, so unless you want to miss it we need to go now!”

Dean hurried down the stairs, pulling on his own jacket. Even for California, winters can still be chilly. “I just had to fix one thing,” he said defensively. “Besides, her water just broke, it’s not like the baby’s here yet.” 

“I don’t know what could have been left to fix,” Castiel teased, flipping down the collar on his husband’s leather jacket. 

“I was refolding the onesies,” Dean sheepishly admitted, before pulling his husband in for a quick kiss. 

Castiel rolled his eyes, fond smile on his lips. “That child is going to outgrow half of what you’re bought for her.” 

“You’ve got no room to talk, mister. Who had to put together the extra bookshelf you just had to have in there, even though there’s already a bookshelf in the nursery? Pretty sure that was me,” Dean retorted, as he locked the door behind them as they headed toward the car. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents,” Castiel said, grinning at Dean as he buckled his seatbelt. 

The decision to have children was easy. How to go about it was not. Fortunately, Charlie had overheard them talking about it in the shop one day, and had offered to be their surrogate. The only thing she had asked in return was that when she and Gilda, her wife, were ready, one of them be a donor for their own child. Both men had donated sperm samples, so the baby’s true birth parent would be a surprise. They’d been lucky enough that Charlie had gotten pregnant on the first try, and she’d called them only minutes ago to tell them that her water broke and she and Gilda were headed to the hospital. 

“I can’t wait to meet our daughter, Dean,” Castiel sighed. “I hope she looks like you.” 

“Nah, sweetheart, I hope she looks like you.” 

~~ 

The next day, a birth announcement in the paper read as such: 

_Proud parents Dean and Castiel Winchester-Novak are happy to announce the birth of their daughter, Mary Claire Winchester-Novak. Born January 14th 2019, at Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital at 1:48 pm, weighing eight pounds and seven ounces, with bright blue eyes and dark hair. She is the first child for the couple._


End file.
